A time for every purpose under heaven

I've lived my entire life below the Mason-Dixon line, so I'm not used to a great deal of winter weather. In the towns and cities where I've lived - in Arkansas, Tennessee, and North Carolina - you can usually expect autumn weather to extend to the end of November, with spring picking up sometime in mid-February. The "cold" months of December and January rarely see temperatures in the 30s lasting more than 2 or 3 days in a row.

That changed last weekend. We got about 7.5 inches of snow in Durham, and it is sticking around. Readers from more northern climes might read that sentence with a yawn, but Southern blood tends to be of a thinner sort. The pictures attached to this post are of our house and neighborhood on Saturday morning. It has felt bitterly cold.

It's nice, in a way, to see evidence of that elusive fourth season of the calendar year. It's a reminder that, as Ecclesiastes speaks about so eloquently, "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven" (3:1).

This blog is right at 3 1/2 years old. The writing that I began on it at the same time my wife and I moved to Durham has been profoundly enjoyable, and it has put me in touch with people from all over who I would never have known about otherwise.

But in blogging, too, there are seasons and times. And right now I'm entering a season where I need to turn my attention to some other tasks that will keep me from being able to post as much. I'm not going to shut the blog down, and I may pop up from time to time over the coming months. I do need to back away from writing in this medium as often, as a way of prioritizing my time. So keep me in your reader if you subscribe that way, or just drop by every now and again. I'll let you know when I can start posting again more regularly.

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Note: If you've been following my posts on Haiti, then you ought to take a look at this excellent story in the New York Times that gives some historical perspective on Haiti's struggles.

Happy Medieval Christmas

Would things be more awesome if we lived in medieval times?

Undoubtedly.

Can we do anything about that?

Unfortunately, no.

Well, almost no. The picture you see above is not some 800-year old stone path in the garden of a medieval castle. It's in my backyard. I decided my wife and I didn't have enough medieval influence in our lives, so I built a vaguely medieval stone path around our garden this past year.

It's pretty medieval even in the summer. But with a light coating of snow and my fancy "accent stones" sticking up at odd angles, it's downright Dark Ages! Every time I go back there I almost expect Madmartigan to come storming out of my garage on his way to take the One Ring back to Castle Grayskull. 'Course it's never long till Emily makes me put my knight stuff away so I can come inside and eat supper.

Anyway, I've been wanting to share a picture of the path around my garden for awhile. Just remember - we weren't all lucky enough to be born in 13th century England, but that's why they invented websites like this one. (It shows you how to build a catapult. No joke.)

So happy medieval Christmas. And if you're asking yourself if Christmas was more awesome during medieval times, the answer is probably yes. But Christmas is still pretty awesome as it is.

My wife and Admiral Adama

This is perhaps the most awesome photo I have ever seen. My wife gets a hug from Bill Adama, commander of the Battlestar Galactica, at a recent financial aid conference.

And to think, I've never even been in the C.I.C.

Or flown in a Viper.

Humph.

Swine Flu fears

Apparently, the fears over a swine flue epidemic are really affecting relationships down at Pooh Corner.

I wrote not long ago about my own thoughts on how we react to looming threats. You can find that story at this link.

What's up, awesome wave?

"Not much. Just crashing the beach party."

No commentary needed

1000 Words

This is a picture of the front gate of the campamento of the Igelesia Metodista in Tambo de Mora, near Chincha, Peru. The photo of the gate was taken by Hendrix College student Grace Yokem, after the Hendrix mission team finished painting it. The young girl in the picture lives in the community and participates in the church's activities in the campamento.

They say a picture tells 1000 words, and I think this is a good example of that. This old gate, for me, is a symbol of the Methodist Church's work in the area. Tambo de Mora is a struggling fishing community where endemic poverty and substance abuse make for a hard childhood for many kids. It's not the kind of place you'd plant a megachurch, I can assure you. But just like that tough old gate, the Methodist Church under the leadership of my friend, Pedro Uchuya, has stuck with the community in good times and bad (including the severe earthquake last August, which hit Tambo de Mora hard). There is now a new church as a part of the campamento facility, and an active feeding ministry provides nourishment every Saturday and Sunday to over 50 hungry kids. An already-planted orchard inside the campamento's walls will eventually provide fresh fruit to the community, and the area is also used as a place where kids can gather in safety to hang out and play soccer.

I've rarely been anywhere that I saw the Holy Spirit more plainly at work than in that campamento. The kids who live there, and the adults who give so much of themselves in ministry, provide signs of the coming kingdom. I thank God daily for my connection to them.